But Sammy, It's Cold Outside
by DeepLittleSOB
Summary: This is an AU of my AU… or something like that. Let's all pretend that it's 2007, mid-season 2, the boys haven't met Lizzy and Lou yet, and it's Christmas time. The boys are on the road and on Christmas Eve they stop into a bar, meeting two girls there for the first time. This is for my awesome followers that keep me writing. Enjoy!


**This is just a little something I wrote as a Christmas gift for my readers (or Hanukkah… or whatever you celebrate…). I was listening to the Jason Manns version of 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' and had this little idea running through my brain. I figured, what the hell… I'm only super behind on story number 21 in my series and 20 is ending super soon with only one chapter left. No big deal, though. Oh, well. I have to go where the ol' brain takes me. I hope you have a Merry Christmas and all that! May the New Year treat you well.**

 **This is an AU of my AU… or something like that. Let's all pretend that it's 2007, mid-season 2, the boys haven't met Lizzy and Lou yet, and it's Christmas time. The boys are on the road and on Christmas Eve they stop into a bar, meeting two girls there for the first time. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Really?" Sam question with surprise, though really he shouldn't be surprised at all, when Dean pulls into the parking lot of a dive bar at a little after eight at night.

"Really," Dean confirms in a hard tone, letting Sam understand right off that this is a non-negotiable situation they are now in.

"Dean… come on…."

"Do you have to be such a bitch about everything all the time," Dean asks him, picking one of the last empty spots in the lot and cutting the engine.

"Dude, we just finished a friggin' case," Sam points out as Dean pockets his keys and gets out of the Impala without looking at him. Sam huffs and throws the passenger door open, getting out in order to continue complaining to his brother. "I still have dirt on my hands."

Dean pauses and inspects his own hands for a moment, see what Sam is trying to point out. "So we wash our hands real quick. I'm willing to bet they have sinks here."

Sam gets mad at the brush off of an answer. "I smell like I've been in a graveyard for hours."

"Chicks dig the outdoorsy type," Dean shrugs and grins cheekily, knowing he's going to win this one already. He can just tell.

"Not when it comes with the stench of corpses!" Sam gets upset. "Look, man. I'm tired. I stink. It's starting to snow out…." He looks up at the fat flakes starting to fall fairly quickly. "Looks like a storm's on its way."

"We're in upstate, bum-fuck New York in December. Of course a storm's coming. A storm's always coming up here. Now, come on. Let's get some shots and some ladies warm us up, huh?" Dean lifts his eyebrows twice and turns for the bar door.

"Let's just keep it low key for the night," Sam shouts at him as he walks away.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean laughs over his shoulder.

"I'm tired. Sleep is fun when I'm tired."

Dean pauses, head hung for a quick second, before turning back around to speak to Sam in the quiet but car filled parking lot. His brother hasn't even closed the car door. He's still standing there refusing to budge. "It's Christmas Eve, Sammy."

"And?" Sam shakes his head a little, not seeing what the big deal is. It happens once a year and, for them, it's always a non-holiday. How are homeless people supposed to celebrate a holiday anyways?

"And… let's have five seconds of fun this one time, Francis," Dean gets mad. Sam just gives him the usual bitch-face from over the roof of the car. Dean sighs heavily. "Look, man. We haven't hung out and had a couple beers in a long time. I need to get out of the car and out of a motel room for a few. Can't you just relax for an hour, two tops? Have a beer and actually try and have some honest to god fun with me?"

Sam knows what this is. Dean will get antsy now and then when they've been on the road for too long. He'll never outright admit that hours on end in the car he loves so much can actually get to him but it does. And Dean's still young at heart. He wants to go out, enjoy his life the little bit that he can.

Lucky for him, Sam's in a caring mood. It's Christmas after all and, even if he hates the holiday, Dean still gets a kick out of it somehow. They've never had one good Christmas ever, but hey… Dean still thinks the day should be recognized. The guy might be delusional.

But one look at Dean's hopeful and pleading expression, one he surely doesn't even know he's wearing, and Sam can feel himself caving.

"Fine," Sam gives up, his arms flying from his sides and dropping heavily against his upper legs with defeat. They're already out of the car and he knows that Dean won't be getting back. "A couple hours tops. Then we find a room and get some real sleep for once."

"Regular party animal," Dean gripes even though Sam's agreeing to his terms. He turns for the door once again and Sam follows, planning out an exit strategy for when Dean either pisses off some guys playing pool, gets too hammered and too nostalgic for beer-can-wreaths and can't walk, or tries to leave with a flavor of the night. He's betting on the last option. Dean's been too busy for girls lately and when Dean hasn't been laid in a while he gets grouchy. His brother has been very grouchy lately.

Pushing open the bar door, Dean walks in and stands there for a moment. Old, dark wooden paneled walls, chipped wooden tables and chairs from another decade, a bar that in itself looks sticky from where he stands, and the tinsel, multicolored Christmas lights, and cheap dollar store paper cutouts on the walls all let him know he's found his place for the night. He inhales deeply, the stale scent of spilt beer and lost dreams hitting his nose like a freight train, and Dean smiles. "Home, sweet home."

Sam rolls his eyes as he stands behind him, looking around the dump with disappointment. It's just as he assumed from the stark outside appearance. Old. Shitty. Depressing.

But this is where Dean thrives. He's always loved a good dive bar.

The way Lizzy inhales sharply, her eyes locking on something across the barroom with a glazed look of want, makes Lou follow her line of sight from the other side of the pool table.

When her eyes reach the obvious destination that Lizzy had, she inhales just as deeply with surprise.

They've been to crap local bars all across the country and they know the type of men to expect from places like this. They're never what one would consider top notch.

But the pair standing in the doorway currently are nothing what they could have even hoped for tonight. The place is jammed with townies celebrating the Eve of a full day off. Lou can see instantly that these two don't fit that profile. Especially the tall one. He's… well fuck, he's perfect. Standing at about six and a half feet if she had to guess, the guy is all solid muscle. It's obvious even through the several layers he's wearing. His face is screwed up in an expression that says he's not all that happy to be where he is but she can still see the striking features that make him undoubtedly beautiful. Strong jaw, cheekbones that might even belong on a girl they're so high and defined, and under the shaggy dark hair are bright hazel eyes.

God. Damn.

"Dibs!" Lizzy calls loudly from the other side of the pool table and Lou immediately groans. She beat her to the punch.

"Bitch!" Lou name calls with anger, seeing her goal for the night disappear completely. The tall hottie already has her dying on the inside, her heart skipping a beat the second she took him in. No fucking way is she letting her best friend take this one. "Veto!"

"No fucking way!" Lizzy gets pissed right off. "You already used your veto!"

"When!?" Lou fights, praying Lizzy doesn't remember that she in fact did use her one veto allowed per year.

"Austin! The dude with the tattoo of a rifle on his bicep and the lame leather vest," Lizzy reminds her, not forgetting.

Lou grits her teeth for a moment. "Fuck. I was hoping you'd forget."

"Nope!" Lizzy grins, placing her pool stick back on the wall rack, ready to abandon their game in favor of men. "And as hot as vest guy was… you totally blew it!"

"Shut up," Lou gets pissed, her heart breaking as she's well aware that she blew it. "Shoulda saved that fucking veto."

"Mmhmm," Lizzy agrees as she eyes her new target for the night, melting a little on the inside with how damn fine he is.

"Fuck me, man," Lou continues to complain as she slumps her shoulder, still eyeing the tall drink of water. "You know I love tall men, too. You're a bitch."

"He's not _that_ tall…," Lizzy starts before pausing. It's then that she actually looks at the man that Damn Fine is with. Pretty hot himself. And so _tall_ … Freakishly _tall_ … holy shit. "Oh my god!" She starts to laugh.

Lou angrily look over to her friend as she laughs. "You don't need to rub it in…."

"Dumb-dumb! Look," Lizzy laughs some more, pointing at the two men.

"Yeah, I get it. You win…."

"We're not calling dibs on the same guy!" she finally points out with a bright smile that hurts.

With a confused face, Lou just asks, "Who did you call dibs on then?"

"The other guy, not the crazy-tall one. Just the regular-tall one." Lizzy points to the two men as they take seats next to each other at the bar. "The extremely hot, could be a fucking model in GQ one."

It's then that Lou really looks at the other guy. He's… well, he just that. Plain hot. Stunning really. He's got a model's face and a strong build. And he's exactly what Lou would assume Lizzy would go after. The kind that tend to burn her in the long run because men with faces like that feel like they have every right to be a prick. "Holy shit," she sighs and relaxes a bit. "Fuck, I thought I was going to have to fight you for Stretch over there. For real."

Lizzy just laughs back at that. "Nah, you can have Stretch. I want GQ."

"Done!"

"You know, I'm tired of playing pool for now. I think I'm gonna get another beer."

"Your beer's nearly full still," Lou points out, the bottle in her hand only a quarter of the way done.

Lizzy peers at her bottle and quickly tips it up. She chugs down the beer in record time. Once it's empty, Lou smiling wide as watches, Lizzy places it on the nearest empty table and lets out a good solid burp.

"So fucking classy," Lou giggles at her best friend, having one of those moments where she's reminded of the little she has still in life. She has the one person closer to her than anyone, practically her sister, and they have moments where they're light and fun. Christmas will be hard tomorrow with all they've each lost, but more than anything else they have one another.

And they have beer.

And they have hot men that just walked into the lioness' den and have no idea that they did.

"Let's go," Lizzy says. "I need to kill my dry spell."

As Lou watches Lizzy adjust her Henley long sleeved shirt, making sure that the buttons are undone enough so that her cleavage is presented well, she grins. This is exactly why she loves her best friend.

"Two more," Dean says to the older female bartender, pushing their now empty shot glasses her way after he and Sam drained them.

"Slow down, Dean," Sam huffs, taking another sip of cheap beer from his barely touched bottle, eyeing Dean from next to him.

"Why bother?" Dean asks as he watches Sharleen (he asked her name when they got there) pour another round of cheap whiskey. "I asked. There's a motel next door. We're not driving anywhere." He then picks up one of the now presented shots and hoists it up. He waits for Sam to follow. And waits. "Come on, Sam. Pick up the shot." He says it patronizingly.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Last one, ok?"

"Whatever you say." Dean clinks shot glasses with Sam and downs another, Sam following. Dean sighs heavily. "Uh, good stuff."

Sam just makes a sour face. "Whatever you say," he repeats Dean's words. "Alright… you wanna play pool or something? If I sit here too long I'm gonna fall asleep."

No answer in return, Sam looks at his brother staring off down the bar.

"Maybe you wanna play darts or something…." Sam trails his question off when he realizes his brother isn't bothering to listen at all. His eyes are glued elsewhere.

Dean follows the girl on her way over to the bar with laser focus. Yes, he's aware that there's a cute blondie behind her also walking towards the bar, but he's too taken with the dark haired, thin yet curvy girl in a leather jacket that just glanced at him very obviously with deep, dark eyes.

"Good god," Dean says to himself when she walks to the bar just a few stools away from them, two other bar patrons separating them. The girl leans over the bar to order two more beers and gives him a beautiful view of her cleavage. If he didn't know any better he'd say that she's trying to get his attention with the way she's angled towards him… or at least he's hoping it's his attention she's chasing.

"Dean?" Sam tries again but fails. His brother is gone and one look at the girl leaning over the bar he knows exactly why. Dean's type all the way. Their night is as good as done as a pair.

"Two more, please," the dark haired girl smiles kindly to the woman behind the bar.

"Why don't you put that on my tab, sweetheart," Dean incepts and offers quickly. Sharleen nods at him, not one to speak many words beyond the necessary. As soon as she grabs the bottles and hands them to the girl he gets a wide, white grin from the hot girl. Bingo.

"Hey, thanks!" she yells down the bar to him, her eager smile bright.

"No problem," Dean grins back with a little wink, already completely taken by her. She's beautiful, the real and honest kind of beauty that isn't worked hard for. It's natural. That's always impressed him. "The name's Dean."

"Lizzy," she smiles some more, the look she shares with him flirty and conspicuous. She's digging him. Perfect.

"Why don't you two come down this way, say hi," he suggests and Lizzy nods in eager agreement. Dean whips his head around to Sam and says in a sly and quite excited voice, "Jackpot."

"Dean, if you want me to go…" Sam starts but is cut off.

"No! No way! Dude, she has a friend. You're wing man," Dean tells Sam in no uncertain terms why he can't leave. He can see the girls getting closer to them. "Just be _normal_."

" _Normal_?" Sam asks, taking offence.

"Yeah, you know, _normal_ … _not_ like you usual are around girls… hey, ladies," Dean greets when the two women arrive, standing next to their stools with their freshly gifted beers.

"Hey," Lizzy says back, her eyes constantly on the man she now knows as Dean. Up close he's even more attractive than from afar. Rugged and handsome, a five o'clock shadow and perfect lips. And green eyes that shouldn't be allowed to exist they're so green.

And now that Lou has an opening laid out for her, she takes it. Without introduction, she eyes Sam hard while he sits there. "You're really tall."

Sam's eyes go wide when the shorter girl with the blonde hair and bright blue eyes chooses to simply blurt out what's clearly the first thing on her mind. "Uh… thanks?"

"Tall is good. I like tall. And you're welcome," Lou says back plainly.

Not sure what to say or do in this situation, Sam just looks at her for a second. While sitting in his stool he's still a few inches taller than her. "And you're… _really_ short."

"No I'm not," Lou huffs a laugh with her clearly jesting denial.

"Oh no?" Sam asks with a surprised voice, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth with her refusal that came so easily.

"Nope. My doctor says I'll be five-ten when I'm done growing."

Sam lets go of a real, honest, yet brief laugh at that, his head thrown back a bit for just a moment. "And how old are you these days, little girl?" he jokes with her.

Her face drops instantly. He watches it morph from light and jovial to something that slightly scares him. "Little girl, huh?" she wonders, voice burning.

"Oh… I was just…." He's already stuttering under her questioning him. Great. He totally just said some really weird shit to her. Maybe Dean was right about the try and be normal thing. "It was a joke, you know? 'Cause you said…."

A slow, slick smile spreads out over her face. "Relax. I never said I didn't like you calling me that."

And Sam's dumbstruck. It came out of nowhere. He doesn't know what to say.

Lou lets out a loud laugh when she views the cute, shockingly adorable look on the enormous lost puppy in front of her. When she first saw him he was all hard lines, brooding expression, and everything manly she could ever imagine in her own creative mind. Now that she's hit on him he's morphed into a little child incapable of hearing that a woman might want him.

And then he lightens up along with her laughing and she gets a glimpse of those dimples.

Her heart literally flips in her chest. She's totally smitten.

"Sammy-boy, you a whiskey kinda guy?" Lou asks, leaning into the bar and waving her hand.

"Uh… well, kind of," Sam answers. "Depends on the day… I guess."

"Can I get a round of Jack shots for the four of us?" Lou asks of Sharleen, the woman nodding as usual and walking away to fill the order.

"Oh, no… I already…." Sam starts to say but he's interrupted.

"He's fine," Dean smiles fake as he slaps an open hand on his brother's chest in silent warning. "Sammy's good to drink another shot."

Sam huffs a pissy laugh. "We just had…."

Dean leans in close so the girls can't hear him when he whispers. "She's already looking at you like a new pair of heels at a Macy's sale. You're in. Just shut up and drink the shot."

"Stop pimping me out," Sam angrily whispers back.

"Sammy, you need this. Go with it."

"I need you to lay off…."

"Well, I need you to be a good wing man because this Lizzy chick, I swear, is ticking off the whole check list." Dean's eyes plead him.

Sam doesn't care. "It's always about _you_ …."

"Shots!" Lizzy grins kindly as she hands one to each of the two men. Dean switches back to his most charming smile as he takes it from her. Sam's face doesn't lighten as he doesn't take his.

"No thanks," Sam waves her off as kindly as he can.

"Not a big drinker, big guy?" Lou wonders to him.

"Not really."

"Fair enough. Merry Christmas," Lizzy jokes as takes the last shot on the bar meant for herself. She raises both glasses in salute, Sam's and hers, and shoots them both one at a time.

And Dean watches with awe and true adoration in his eyes. He's taken by her already.

"You're drooling," Sam jokes as he elbows his brother. Dean blinks a few times before taking his own shot.

"Well, alright," Lizzy smiles wide, running on the high of getting a good buzz on and being in the presence of an extremely hot man that appears to be very into her already. "You guys play pool?"

Sam and Dean look at each other, silently laughing at the absurd question.

"You two are cooked," Lizzy says with slick confidence as she walks to the far end of the pool table, Dean and Sam both watching her with defeat. "Lost to a couple of chicks. You both really need to brush up on your eight-ball skills."

Sam glances at Dean and they both take a second to share in their mutual surprise. The girls crushed them. They crushed them in pool, the game they rely on for cash on hand while on the road. A game they considered being damn near pros at. Shit. How the hell did that happen?

"We went easy on you girls," Dean claims, sitting in a stool with his beer, back hunched with the embarrassment he feels.

Lizzy pauses and looks right at him. "No… you really didn't," she calls him out jovially. He says nothing and she just laughs at him. "It's fine. We're used to guys being surprised by us by now, right Lou?"

"Absolutely," she answers, sitting in her own stool with Sam standing next to her.

Lining up, Lizzy bends over the table. She has a clear shot of the eight ball in the corner pocket and she's too excited to beat these guys. They were good at the game. _Really_ good at the game. It feels excellent to be even better than that. Pool stick aimed, Lizzy smiles as she doesn't look at the man sitting behind her before speaking to him. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" he asks, eyes still checking her out.

"Stop staring at my ass, huh?" she smirks as she lets her shot rip, sinking the eight-ball for the official win. She then turns sharply around and winks at him. "I know it looks good bent over the table and all, but be a gentleman."

"Hey, you're the one flaunting it, sweetheart," Dean points out easily. "How the hell am I not supposed to look?"

Lizzy just grins, proud that she's able to get this hot guy wanting her. She walks to him and pats him on the chest twice. "Don't you owe us some drinks?"

"I'd be happy to get those for you… if you come with me," Dean says to her in flirtatious tone.

"I can do that," Lizzy grins with excitement to talk to him one on one for a moment. She looks to Lou. "Louie, what do you want?"

"Beer!" she shouts back, then glances at Sam. "Two!"

Lizzy smirks with wide eyes and turns back to Dean. "Let's go."

"Only if you walk first," Dean grins wide.

Her eyes narrow only briefly before getting it. She then heads for the bar, letting her hips sway a little more than usual while Dean follows her, eyes glued to her form as promised.

"He looks like a love-sick puppy dog," Lou comments as she watches her friend walk off with the other man. She then looks up at Sam with a grin. "Your friend always this gullible with girls?"

"Brother. And no," Sam both corrects and answers as his eyes are glues on Dean at the bar. The way he leans into Lizzy, says something in her ear, gets her to laugh, and he laughs back, _actually laughs a real laugh_ , Sam can tell something is different. This isn't how Dean usually acts. By now he should be in a motel room alone with a girl, not still here actually enjoying his time with her, clothing on. Sam looks down at Lou's bright eyes, almost having forgot how blue they really are during the course of the game, and she looks surprised.

"Brother!?" she asks with a grin.

"Yeah," Sam nods.

"You two are _brothers_?" Lou repeats incredulously, standing up to put her pool stick back on the wall rack.

"Yeah, believe it or not," Sam answers lightly enough, watching her.

"That makes zero fucking sense," Lou tells him, moving to stand next to him, her neck tilted back to keep eye contact with their height difference.

"Yeah, we're not all that much alike," Sam agrees with her opinion.

"You don't even look alike, though," she smirks. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're both a certain level of hot damn, but it's in completely different ways."

She swears she sees him blush slightly with that.

"Oh, I'm sorry… you weren't aware that you're hot?" Lou patronizingly asks, knowing he's being shy suddenly.

"I… uh…," Sam tries to answer but then huffs an embarrassed laugh. "I don't know what to say to that."

Lou nods, seeing that maybe picking up chicks at the bar isn't his usual thing. This actually excites her a little. He'll be a true challenge, or at least she's really starting to think so, and oh yes, Lou does love a solid challenge. Time to get to work. "I can give you a few ideas."

"Of what to say to that?" Sam asks, eyebrows up as she's taking him off guard. She nods with a pursed grin. "Ok, what should I have said to that?"

"Well, you could have said thank you," she lets him know lightly, clear that she isn't upset that he didn't and it's all in fun.

"Maybe I should have," Sam consents, taking a seat in the stool she was once in to look at her a little closer to eye level. She's so tiny. She can't be more than five feet, her tight and thin form exactly the type he likes to look at when he actually allows himself to look. And her eyes are a crystalline blue, the rare kind of clear and bright blue that only the few lucky people get. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." She laughs a little before adding on another example. "You also could have used it as an opening."

"Opening?" Sam wonders.

"Oh, yeah," she answers, walking closer to him, standing herself between his open knees. "Like, say, if I told you that I thought you were hot then you could've turned it around and said that you didn't think you were quite as hot as I was." She lays it on thick and pushed her boundaries, snaking her arms around his neck. "I mean, that's only if you think I'm hot though. Do you?"

Wide hazel eyes stare back at her as Sam gets that classic deer-in-headlights look on his face. He's taken completely by surprise.

"You don't?" Lou smirks at him, pulling him closer, her breasts just touching his chest through their clothes.

"I don't know you," Sam lets her know and he stands up, ending the moment Lou tried so hard to create.

"You could if you wanted to," Lou offers quickly, stepping back as he stands.

And Sam pauses there. He knows what kind of _getting to know_ she means but that's not exactly where his headspace is right now. After the crazy day, the long drive away from said crazy day, and now the fact that Christmas day, a day he's loathed most of his life, is just hours away, he's not in the hook up without pretenses mode. "Let's go sit down somewhere."

"Why?" Lou wonders, not used to the reaction she's getting from him. Usually once she lets a guy know that she's interested in some horizontal alone time they jump for it. But not this Sam guy. No way. He's totally different than any dude she's run into on the road. She's just not sure if it's a good thing or not yet.

Maybe Sam's crazy. He knows he's turning down an easy hookup, the kind that don't normally fall into his lap like this. And she's beautiful. His type all the way. But jumping into bed with her feels weird and wrong. He's done it before, the rare few times he allowed himself to, but that feels like the wrong decision right now.

Smiling slightly, trying to keep her interested despite his turning her down since he does actually want to be around her more, Sam tells her, "You're gonna get to know me."

"Am I?" Lou counters.

Sam shrugs. "If you think I'm hot then what's the problem with that?"

"I might not like what's behind the hotness once I get to know you," Lou pushes him, understanding that he means get to know him personally and not physically. "I'm a girl. A bad personality can make hotness fade."

"But you'll get to look at me the entire time you talk to me," Sam reminds, the statement almost sounding like a question. "If you really think I'm… good looking… then that's a good deal, right?"

Lou thinks for all of two seconds. "Fair enough. Lead the way."

And if she checks out his ass all the way to the small, quiet corner booth in the back of the bar, then oh well. Merry Christmas to her.

"Mm," Dean hums as he downs yet another shot. "Ugh." He slams the shot glass down onto the bar top as he stands there with Lizzy. Two more shots downed together and they've all but forgotten about the fact that they're supposed to be doing a beer run for the group, not getting tanked just the two of them. Oh well. Dean couldn't give a flying shit at this point. He just watched this Lizzy chick down yet more alcohol like a total champion and she's barely showing signs of being drunk.

Fuck, she's awesome.

"Ok, no more shots for a second here," Dean comments, trying to think long term about his night as he wipes at his bottom lip with his thumb.

"Pussy," Lizzy name-calls, one eyebrow arched as she gives him a disappointing look.

"What was that!?" Dean asks, unprepared for the rude comment.

"Oh, nothing," she feigns innocent.

"I believe you called me a pussy for trying to keep my wits about me in your presence." His narrowed eyes stare at her dark brown ones, eyes that are big and bright and full of the kind of lightness that infects him… the kind of lightness he hasn't felt in years. He's feeling younger, freer, and much more like the fun guy he once was just by being near her.

"I calls 'em like I sees 'em… is all," she tells him, picking up her fresh beer and taking a long pull from it. She knows she's making it clear just how much of a drinker she is but she doesn't care. It's Christmas. It's her damn day off. And if she's as right as she thinks she is, Dean's no stranger to getting fucked up either.

"So when you _sees_ me, you see a pussy," Dean sums it up.

"When you need a break from drinking… yeah," she nods, knowing she's just poking fun.

Dean gives her a surprised look. Chicks don't normally make fun of him when they first meet like this. She's very different. "I'm sorry, but did you _want_ me passing out early and ending our night way before the real fun even starts?"

The look she shares with him is one that can only be described as surprise mixed with offence presented in a somehow playful way. "I'm sorry, but did you just assume that I'm going to sleep with you tonight?"

He shares his best shit-eating-grin. "Was I wrong to assume?"

She thinks for a second. "No. I just don't want to be thought of as so easy. No girl does."

"Whoa, whoa… I never said I thought you were easy," Dean tells her, hands out to show his innocence.

"It may have sounded implied," Lizzy tells him with a small smile, leaning her elbow into the bar as she turns to face him straight on.

"No, sweetheart. I don't think you're easy. I just was getting a certain… vibe from you, and from us. And if I'm wrong then please, feel free to tell me. I'll back off." At that point Dean takes one step back from her to prove he means it.

"Don't you dare!" Lizzy laughs and reaches for him, grabbing a fistful of black t-shirt and pulling him back in. He ends up a mere few inches from her and she grins up at him, the look purely sexy to him. "You're right. We… click."

"Yes we do," Dean grin back down at her.

"And I like that you didn't just assume I was easy to get," Lizzy tells him, despite knowing she also isn't always all that hard to get either. She lets go of his t-shirt and hears a sigh of disappointment at that.

"Well, take it from me, a person isn't _easy_ just because they like sex," Dean spells out his view on things, leaning into the bar to mirror her. " _Everybody_ likes sex. If they say they don't, they're lying."

"Amen," Lizzy nods emphatically.

"And I'm not a liar. I like sex. You like sex?" Dean asks her outright, knowing he might be a little bit of a jackass for this but he thinks he's able to read her well enough to be sure she won't get pissed or offended at his very forward ways.

"Love it," she answers quickly, willing her eyes to not roam his solid form and make it obvious just how much she's wanting him. It's been pure magnetism since the second he walked into the bar. She could feel a physical pull towards him. She just needs him.

"Well then, there we are, sweetheart. Two people who like sex," Dean says to her, absolutely dying for her now. Damn is she smoking and now he knows for a fact he's getting her in bed. Time to get to that bed fast! "You live around here?"

"Ah, no," she laughs at the idea. "I'm staying at that crappy motel across the parking lot."

His face drops. "Weird."

"What?"

"My brother and I were gonna head there and get a room after getting a little holiday cheer in us."

Lizzy takes another big swig of her beer and then stares at him, eyes smoldering. "Screw that. You can stay in my room for the night."

"What about Lou?" Dean asks.

Lizzy giggles. "Please, she'll be fine." She knows her best friend well enough. Sam is screwed six ways to Sunday already if that maneater has anything to say about it. "She'll get her own room."

"Uh, ok…." Dean starts to look around for Sam, catching sight of him in a small table in the back corner of the bar. He need to let him know to grab himself a room or better yet share with that Lou chick.

Lizzy doesn't know that and takes his wandering eyes as a sign that maybe he's rethinking. "You know, I got a twelve pack in the mini fridge and some Zeppelin ready to play anytime you wanna get outta here."

Dean swallows hard, face suddenly serious as he whip his head around and stares at her with pleasant surprise. "You like Zeppelin?"

"You mean do I like the greatest rock band to ever grace the planet Earth?" she scoff. "Uh, yeah, I _kinda_ like them. Just a little bit."

Dean exhales hard with sudden, all consuming want. Holy fuck. She's perfect. "Chug you're beer," he tells her as he tips his up and takes the entire thing down.

Wide eyes on him as he drains his bottle, Lizzy just laughs. "Seriously? You really wanna leave right now?"

Exhaling an 'ah' after he kills his drink, Dean plops the empty onto the bar with a clink. "Yes. Right now."

"You're nuts," Lizzy smiles wide, never having gotten this eager of a response from a guy before.

"Darlin', I've been good this year. Well… _pretty_ good," Dean jokes in a rushed, excited tone. "I deserve a good present for Christmas."

"And I'm that present?" Lizzy grins with flattery and still running surprise.

"Oh, absolutely," he slickly tells her, stepping the half a foot closer to her that they had left between them at this point. He's completely taken by her and ready to get her all to himself. Even with his hookup history, he can't remember ever feeling this need for a woman so quickly and so strongly. Whatever it is about her, he's willing to take drastic measures to ensure a night with her.

Before she could ever protest, not that she would, Dean cups the side of her jaw and leans down, pressing is lips to hers quickly. Lizzy's knees could have given out when she feels it. There's something there, something real and oh so good. And those lips, the ones she's been staring at constantly throughout the night, are so fucking perfect. And he's a damn good kisser. He must know it since he's clearly trying to seal the deal with his skills.

When Dean ends the kiss way too early (they are in public after all) he exhales hard as he pulls back. That was… he's not sure there's a word for it. But she's an amazing kisser, her tinted lips tasting sweet with the light sheen of gloss on them moving in perfect sync with is, like she was always meant to kiss him. And if just her lips feel that good….

"Well…." Lizzy astounds quietly, opening her eyes slowly to meet the green eyes of an equally taken off guard man in front of her. That was shockingly great. "Fuck me sideways."

"I can arrange that," Dean promises, hand still on her jaw. He brushes his thumb over her cheek and she nearly shivers with the sweetness he combines with the promise of good sex.

She nods absently. "Fuck it. Let's go."

Dean can feel the heat flush through his entire body as he watches her gulp her beer down as quickly, hell, possibly even quicker than he did. She then drops her bottle onto the bar top next to his and grabs his hand. She then starts making her way to the back corner booth she saw Lou and Sam walk to a little bit ago.

"Door's this way…," Dean points and tries to redirect her.

"No, I have to tell Lou," Lizzy says, pointing instead at her friend.

"No," Dean complains when he sees the sea of people she'd have to get through to reach where Lou is. "Just text her."

"I can't just leave her here alone. Chicks don't do that."

"She's with Sammy," Dean shrugs. "He'll make sure she's fine." More than fine, Dean hopes silently for his brother as he looks awfully cozy with the petite blonde in that little booth. They're leaned into each other as they speak over the music and both are smiling wide.

"How do I know she's safe with him?" Lizzy counters, trying to be smart over impulsive despite really, _really_ preferring to be impulsive right now. Fuck, Dean's fucking gorgeous as they debate what to do. She's staring at his lips again, watching them move smoothly as he speaks. Shit, he just said something to her and she missed it while leering.

"Lizzy, you hear me?" he asks when she doesn't respond. He smirks when her eyes flick up to his eyes again. She was checking him out again. Awesome.

"Yeah… I mean, what?" she asks, back to focus.

"I was saying that you seem to trust me so… why can't you trust my brother too?"

Lizzy opens her mouth to respond but doesn't. Instead she turns to look over at Lou. Fuck this. "LOUIE!" she shouts over the crowd, waving her hand overhead.

Lou looks over and catches sight of Lizzy. They lock eyes, Lou making a confused face to ask what's up.

"I'm leaving!" she yells, pointing to Dean behind her. Lou looks, her eyes once more checking Dean out, and then she nods enthusiastically at her friend. She flashes an overly enthusiastic thumbs up.

"We're good. Let's go," Lizzy rushes out, gripping tightly to Dean's hand and tugging him towards the front exit.

"Right behind you." Dean's suddenly feeling like Santa's real and he's been a good boy this year… despite not really having been good at all.

* * *

"Well, looks like my room's about to be occupied for a while," Lou half jokes, half annoys with the reality of the situation. "Hope you didn't plan to leave anytime soon. I wouldn't mind the company since I'm currently homeless."

Sam grins at her, liking that she's suddenly much friendlier and less… attack-y. She seemed to slow her roll as soon as Sam made it clear that he wanted talk and hang out versus run across the street like Lizzy and Dean just did. "I have nowhere to be besides catching up on sleep for once. I can stay a while."

Lou smiles and presses her lips together. She's figured it out. Usually men are direct and love a good solid obvious hitting-on. Sam's very different than that. He gets awkward when she's too forward and he's far deeper than the usual superficial man.

Wrinkling her expression, she has to ask, "Why are you and your brother staying at a motel on Christmas Eve?"

"Why are you and your friend?" Sam turning it very quickly around.

"I asked you first," she smiles a little and waits for an answer.

Sam immediately casts his eyes downward at his empty beer bottle in his hands. "We… are kinda on a road trip of sorts."

"A road trip over Christmas?" Lou asks incredulously.

"We've been driving around the country for a while now."

"No jobs?"

"We have jobs… they're just complicated."

"What do you do?"

Sam pauses and thinks. "We're in extermination. Big stuff… the tough stuff that no one else wants to or knows how to handle."

She stares at him with bullshit-calling eyes. "Extermination?"

"Yep."

"Big stuff?"

"Uh-huh."

"Riiiiight," Lou's eyes narrow, thinking and ready to call him out. "Is that why you're carrying a gun behind your back? In case you run into a really big rat or a rabid skunk on acid?"

Sam's eyes go so wide Lou laughs right at him. It's nearly comical to see that reaction.

"Sam, I know you're a fucking hunter," Lou tells him with a grin.

"How do you know about hunters?" Sam has to know, not even attempting to hide the truth of who he is since she obviously knows.

"Well, I guess you could say it takes one to know one," Lou smirks, giving herself up.

And Sam's eyes grow wider still despite Lou assuming they couldn't get any bigger. "You!?"

Lou nods yes.

"Huh," Sam lets a soft smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he leans back into the booth seat and looks at her with new eyes. "Well, you fooled me."

"And _you_ definitely didn't fool _me_ ," she huffs at him. "The gun behind your back, the blood spatter on your right boot, the way your eyes sweep the room every twenty seconds for trouble, the roughed up knuckles… and dude, I totally heard you say Christo behind my back when we were playing pool."

"You were coming at me so hard I thought you might be evil," Sam counters, thinking he's slick for just a second.

"I'm not a demon, honey. I may have the devil in me a little… but I'm no demon." She bites her bottom lip a little before eyeing him over, returning to her forward ways for just a second.

Sam huffs a laugh. "My brother and I don't really run into too many people that we both get along with or whatever. It seemed a little too suspiciously good. Just had to cover our asses in case this was a set up."

"You get set up by demons a lot?" Lou wonders, thinking it's a paranoid way to live.

Sam pauses just a couple seconds. "We're pretty deep in it. We just have to be sure in all situations."

Nodding, Lou just stares up at him. "Your brother seems trusting of us."

"That's because it's been weeks since my brother's been laid."

Lou laughs brightly at the quick and irritable response. "That sounded so bitchy."

"Try living with him every day. You'd sound bitchy too," Sam assures as he looks her over with new eyes now that he knows what she is. "You don't look like a hunter."

"Oh no?"

"Definitely not."

"Why do you say that?"

"You're dressed… well, like an average girl, for starters."

"I don't always dress in heavy, concealing clothing."

"I can see that," Sam lightly flirts as she's wearing a low-cut long sleeved t-shirt and very form-fitting jeans paired with heeled black boots.

"Glad that you're at least looking. I mean, I got all dolled up for a reason."

Sam's cheeks flush a little since he did look.

"And just because I have more normal looking clothes and some makeup on right now doesn't mean I don't have four different weapons hidden on me right this very second."

"Wait, do you really?" Sam asks, curious as all hell as her clothing looks too fitted to ever hide anything.

"Hell yeah, I do." She nods. "Want to find out where they are?"

The slick look he gets from her makes him smile. As he gets more comfortable with her, more used to her bold ways that he knows she's trying to keep under control, he finds her very strong flirting to be not so bad. It's actually a little flattering.

"You never give up, do you?" Sam asks with a grin.

And Lou can feel her heart swoon when she sees the cute dimples make themselves very present. "Why, are you hoping I will? Because I hate to break it to you, Bigfoot, but I'm a very determined woman. If I want something, I go for it."

And there it is again. She makes him feel like a shy kid, like the short, awkward teen he was in high school with the head cheerleader looking his way. Which never happened. So he never figured out how to deal with it.

"Do I really make you that uncomfortable?" Lou final wonders through a laugh when he once more shifts uncomfortably after her commenting.

"No…." He knows he's showed his hand when his voice goes up. It always does when clearly lying.

"Riiiight," she rolls her eyes. "Look, man. I like you. You're nice, you're freakin' hot, and I love tall men. But I keep thinking you're not exactly into me."

Sam face drops. Not into her? How could he not be? "No, that's not it."

"You sure? Because any time I say anything that might be construed as a flirtation you get… I guess, weird."

Sam smiles a little at her choice in vocabulary. He keeps getting glimpses of a really intelligent woman but she hidden behind a man-hungry predator. "Maybe I just don't know how to read you."

"Oh no?"

"Not at all."

"What do you want to know?" she opens herself up, leaning back into the booth a little and angling herself towards him. "Shoot."

He pauses, thinking it over. He does like her company but at the same time he's had a really rough run if it lately. Starting with his dad's death, it's been one thing after another. Finding Andy, Dean getting nearly convicted of murder in Baltimore, the whole Croatoan fiasco, being given hope that angels are real and that hope being smashed… and then there's the whole being possessed by Meg thing. And then Madison…. Madison. He's still recovering from that.

"I think I might just turn in for the night," Sam mentions to her as she moves to stand up. "It's been a tough stretch. I just need some rest."

"Wait, wait, wait," Lou says to him, reaching out and grabbing his forearm to stop him. "It's only ten."

"My bedtime is usual nine," Sam responds jokingly but she keeps her grip on him.

"Ha-ha," she grins wide, the look beautiful on her. She has perfect, pouty lips that when stretched into a smile is quite captivating. When Lou sees a server walk by she waves. "Excuse me!?"

The woman stops at their table.

"Two more beers please."

"Sure," the server says and walks away.

"I tell you I'm leaving and you buy me a beer?" Sam questions her, sitting fully back down. He knows he said he'd leave but he wouldn't leave the kind girl alone to drink two beers, one that was meant for him, after she was ditched by her friend. For his brother.

"I panicked," she shrugs innocently.

Sam nods. "I really should go."

And the biggest, most deviously fun smile spreads across her face when she hears that. She then sings out to him in a surprisingly beautiful voice, "But Sammy, it's cold outside."

"Zeppelin three or Houses of the Holy?" Lizzy asks through the closed bathroom door inside her motel room as she hunches over the nightstand, shaking the flakes from her hair.

"Zep one!" she gets back in answer as he relieves himself. "Start from the top."

"Oh, you wanna just go through the whole catalog?" she jokes as she picks Led Zeppelin I on her iPod and plugs it into her dock.

"I can make it through them all if you can!"

She grins to herself at that. He's setting himself up for a marathon that she's more than capable of performing. He better know what he's saying.

Dean pulls open the bathroom door as 'Good Time, Bad Times' starts playing. He sighs as he watches her straighten up after the music is on. "Who the hell needs Christmas carols when you have this?"

When Lizzy looks him over while he stands there for a second, all bowed legs, wide shoulders and hope in his bright green eyes, she can literally feel that butterflies-in-the-stomach thing that she's heard about in ever book cliché. It's real. And he's something.

Walking for the mini fridge, Lizzy asks, "Beer?"

"Sure," Dean nods. He agrees because she offers but really he just wants to tear into her. And the way she bends down to reach into the fridge, her perfectly round ass framed by tight, dark jeans presenting itself to him, makes his mouth water with need. She's killing him.

"Here," she says, her cute grin in place as she hands a bottle over.

"Thank you," Dean returns with, reaching for hers first. He pops the cap off her bottle with his ring before doing the same to his own.

"Neat trick," Lizzy comments, sipping her beer and batting her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, sweetheart, I got plenty of neat tricks," Dean assures her, sipping his own beer but wishing he wasn't. He'd rather have the taste of _her_ on his tongue.

"Care to show me?" Lizzy smirks back, reaching to swipe his beer from him. She walks to the small round table in the room and places them there, thinking that maybe a drink first was a waste of precious time. She moves on quickly from place to place, never staying in one town too long so whatever time she has with this particularly beautiful man is fleeting.

The way her hips sway when she moves sets him off. Forget being kind and playing this right. She wants him, he can tell, so what's the hold up?

By the time Lizzy turns back around to face him he's right in front of her, reaching for her. She flinches just slightly with the surprise but when his big, roughed up hands cup her face in an unexpectedly gentle way, she melts into him. Body pressed to his, her hands on his hips and her head tilted up to meet his, she gets to kiss him again. And Hallelujah for that because those lip are made of pure perfect sin.

Dean presses against her a little harder when he delves a bit deeper into the kiss, making Lizzy back up a half step until her ass is pressed to the edge of the small, two-person table. She hums quietly deep in her throat when she has his hips pinning her there, her hands beginning to weave into the hair at the back of her head. She grips hard to the unbuttoned front of his open flannel, pulling him closer as if there were room to do so.

He smells so good. She always loved a man that smelled good. And the mix of leather with aftershave, and if she didn't know better something akin to the slight burn of gun smoke, is intoxicating. He smells like the quintessential bad boy/cocky son of a bitch that also has some form of gentle way in him. He's treating her with reverence and care, kissing her like she's special somehow even though they just met, but his sandpaper hands make her think he's done some dirty jobs. Who _is_ this guy?

And then the next song starts and Dean pulls away from the kiss. She must have it on shuffle as it skips a few. He closes his eyes and, with his hand still in her hair and his hips still pressing her into place, he mouths the first line with pure heart and soul.

 _Whooo-ooh, I can't quit you, babe…._

The bluesy song truly kicks in and he seamlessly leans forward to kiss her again as if he never took the second to enjoy one of the classic great songs of the past, and Lizzy can't help but giggle at him. Add silly to that list of characteristics that make up this stunning man and she's really at a loss as to how she's supposed to see him.

Mm, that giggle. It was bright and so sexy that Dean's suddenly more turned on than he was just a second ago, which he didn't think could be possible. The very solid buzz, bordering on drunk, that's pumping through his veins, the perfectly sexy song that Lizzy put on, and the shockingly hot, unreal beautiful woman that's nearly throwing herself at him right now… when has his life ever been this good? It's hard to remember the last time it was.

Lizzy's hands run up his chest over his t-shirt as they kiss, tongues lightly sliding as they figure each other out with very little effort. They're in tuned. They're on that same page. It's a little too perfect really, but neither seems to be complaining. Dean lets one hand leave her hair, traveling over the back of her tight Henley shirt to reach for her ass. A hand on a cheek, he squeezes once and finds out just how damn good a body she has. She's all tight muscle and perfect curves.

Not wasting any more time, Dean reaches down and hooks a hand under her thighs. He pulls her up and gets her seated on the edge of the table, standing between her legs and never once letting his lips stray from hers. Immediately she squeaks with a delighted rush at how easily he lifts her and she grabs onto the lapels of his red and blue flannel shirt. She peels the shirt back and down his arms, Dean hastily helping her get rid of it. Less layers the better. Once it's gone Dean quickly places a hand on either side of her neck, needing to keep his fingertips on her. Her skin is soft and warm and inviting… he needs more skin from her.

Lizzy lifts her arms as Dean pulls her shirt overhead. The moment it's gone she looks up at him, watching as his sights scan her form.

"Damn," Dean says to her, reaching her eyes again after he really views her without her shirt. Tight stomach, perfectly round breasts, smooth skin, the entire sleeve of tattoos on her left arm that he's not willing to slow down and study just yet… so fucking perfect.

Lizzy smirks and grabs the side of his neck and yanks him in, kissing him again after the clearly complimentary reaction to her body. His hands slide over her back, mouth moving in sync, and he takes in every line of her body; her sides, her shoulders, everything. When he reaches her breasts he feels them through her bra, palming one her hand, and he suddenly pauses.

When his mouth freezes against hers, Lizzy gets worried. She opens her eyes and looks at him as he's clearly trying to process something sudden, eyes faraway and no longer on her. "Dean?"

He squeezes her left breast a little harder, the rest of him not moving an inch.

"Dean… what…?" she tries to ask but he cuts her off.

"Lizzy, uh…." He reaches into the cup of her bra hastily, certainly not in a sexy way, and pulls out the object he felt there. "Why is there a folding knife in your bra?"

 _Shit_! She forgot to disarm! She's always better than this when hooking up! Take all weapons off of her person before trying to bang the hot guy! Always! "Oh… you know how a gal has to be safe these days, right?" she lies. "Can never trust all those creeps out there…."

Dean looks at the handle. It's wooden, old, maybe vintage… but what gets him is the symbol carved into it. A protection symbol. That he knows all too well. He unfolds the knife and checks it over. That blade is undoubtedly made of silver.

"Holy shit," Dean blurts out and steps back away from her. He sharply peers up from the knife with huge wide eyes and states the now obvious. "You're a hunter."

The double take Lizzy makes would be funny under other circumstances. "Wait, what!?"

Something in Dean snaps just then. He looks at her, sees the old, time-smoothed scar on her upper chest and the Latin scripts and mystical symbols that make up the sleeve of ink on her arm…. "You're a fucking hunter!?"

"How do you know about hunters?" she asks him as she hops down from the table and walks to him. She snatches the knife from him and folds it closed with quick ease before walking for her bag that she deliberately left in the corner of the room closest to the door, not unlike Dean usual does.

"Because I am one," Dean tells her easily.

"What?" Lizzy huffs out a laugh at him as she packs away the weapon. She then reaches into her boot to remove another, larger hunting knife and packs that away also as they speak.

"I'm a hunter too," he repeats his answer, a disbelieving smile sent her way. "Have been my whole, me and my brother."

"You and Sam are hunters?" Lizzy says as she thinks the idea over. Giving him a head to toe scan, she crosses her arms as she shifts her weight casually onto one foot. "Well, you sure dress like one. And you kinda have that rough around the edges thing going for you."

"Right back 'atcha," he playfully returns. "Holy crap. I totally didn't see this one coming."

"Me neither."

"Huh… how long you been hunting?" Dean asks.

"Few years now."

"No kidding…." Dean has to belt out a laugh. "Figures that the first chick I actually find interesting in… who the hell knows… is a hunter."

She laughs right back as 'Communication Breakdown' plays in the background ironically. "Dean, huh? And Sam…." She's trying to place his name now that she knows his occupation. The community is small enough. She figures she would have heard of a Dean and his brother Sam before now… wait… "Nooooooo."

"No?" he questions.

" _Fuck_." She gets it.

"What?" Dean wonders again, confused.

"What's your last name?"

This is where Dean stands a little taller, pride in his whole system as he tells her, "Winchester."

He watches her breathe in deeply once, chest rising and falling with a slow calculate timing as her eyes instantly darken. "Bullshit."

Dean shakes his head a little. "Bullshit?"

"The Winchesters are legendary," she tells him. "There's no fucking way I just happen to run across you randomly on fucking Christmas Eve. None."

Dean shrugs and holds his hands out to the side. "Believe it, sister."

Now, Lizzy's heard all about the Winchesters from Bobby, her trainer extraordinaire. He's known 'those boys' for years and half of the training she and Lou went through was based on what the Winchesters have dealt with; Dean, Sam and John. And John… she just heard the news recently. Maybe she'll mention that another time when she isn't shirtless and turned on as all hell by the actual living legend in her room.

"I suddenly feel like some groupie in the presence of a rock god," Lizzy confesses with red cheeks.

"God!? _Really_?" Dean asks with disbelief. "I mean, I'm good. And I mean _good_ …."

"Don't over sell it, baby. You'll have to live up to it." She cocks an eyebrow at him and lets him know this is all still going to happen.

"Oh, I know," he confidently replies. "But you need to relax. I'm not all I'm cracked up to be."

"Fuck off. Yes you are," Lizzy tells him, stepping closer a bit. "Dean, even if half the stories I've been told are true, then you're still a hero." He scoff at her and looks away. "And I've been listening to stories for years now."

Dean's hands fly from his sides before slapping down against his sides. "Sorry to disappoint then."

Her face drops but not like how he expected. Dean figured by now she'd be asking him to leave but it feels like it's the opposite. Deeply breathing once again, she hums thoughtfully once. "On the contrary. I've heard so much… about what you do, what you're about, your clear convictions. I'm not disappointed, Dean. I'm… in awe."

Dean can't believe what's happening here. "You sure you're not delusional or anything?"

"Stop saying stupid shit like that," Lizzy demands from him suddenly. "You're an ass kicking hero and the fact that you don't know it is insane to me. _You're_ the delusional one."

"Whatever you say," Dean pushes it all off, not saying it with an attitude so much as a loss. He doesn't get what she's talking about. Plenty of hunters out there know the good his family has done, sure… but they know about the bad too. She must not have heard the bad.

"Listen closely," Lizzy says to him, moving to stand right in front of him again. She reaches up, grabs his chin and forces him to look right at her. "You're a fucking hero. Say it."

Dean's confused eyes lock onto her bright brown once and he can see the lust and adoration in them.

"Dean… say it. You're a fucking hero. Because you are," she tells him. She then pulls his face a little closer by his chin. "Say. It."

Something about the way she stares at him, breaking him down and looking at him in a light that he's not at all used to, has him believing her. For whatever reason he believes her.

"Dean…." Her sultry voice says him name like it's sinful to do so as she keeps inching him closer, her lips brushing his by the time she continues. "Believe me. You are. Say you're a fucking hero."

He's back to being so turned on that he's prepared to die for the chance be with her just once. From the connection he's feeling with her, how sexy she is, to her confidence and the way she moves, to her love of Zeppelin… he's never felt like this with a chick, whatever this is. "I'm a fucking hero."

"Fuck yeah, you are," she respond in a rush and slams her mouth against his. She becomes completely attached to him, melting against his form and locking her arms around his neck tightly.

In a second Dean's once more picking her up by her thighs but only for a quick moment. He turns and drops them both, tangled and locked together, onto the bed as he's absolutely about to devour this woman that has his head swimming with confusion in the very best way.

"Come on!" Lou nearly slurs a little as she holds up one more shot of whiskey, shoving the small glass into Sam's larger hand. "No puss-ing out!"

"No, no, no, no," Sam pushes the shot glass away from him, his head a foggy, loopy mess. He's drunk. He never gets drunk but he's totally, one-hundred percent, high school-style wasted. "You said, and I quote, just a _half_ a drink more."

"So? I lied!" she laughs heartily.

He looks at the shot glass and takes a deep breath. "I can't…."

"Dude! You have to!" she shouts at him as if he weren't right next to her. She leans into his side and tries to get him to take the glass again. "You're Sam-fucking-Winchester! It's on me!"

"So were the last six shots… seven shots," he corrects himself. Was it seven? Shit, this girl loves to drink. "Already drunk."

"And I love drunk men," Lou laughs sloppily, keeping her small weight against his as they've been sitting without space between them in the booth for over an hour now. When she found out he was a Winchester Lou took over, plopping down her bunk card and opening a hefty tab. What a Christmas gift. Hanging out with a Winchester. "And I like you. Come on, drink it."

"Last one, Lou," Sam warns her, his words sounding like one big, messy word.

"Cross my heart," she tells him, half lying, as he takes the shot glass from her. She then holds her own one out. "To new, awesome… sexy friends."

"No," Sam shakes his head, it lulling a touch with how damn buzzed he is. He drank way too much and he knows it. "'S stupid."

"My cheers is stupid?" she acts hurt even if she isn't, pouting out her bottom lip. She thought booze would loosen him up more but nope. He's still a bit too reserved.

"Yup," Sam tells her, popping the P-sound a bit.

"Ok then, you make it up if you're so smart," Lou childishly challenges.

"Kay… uh… Merry fucking Christmas," Sam says loudly when he decides, using what seems to be one of her favorite words. He then laughs a little giggly laugh then gives away his true state.

"My god, I got you fucked up," Lou laughs, Sam laughing right along with her. She leans her head onto his shoulder and he doesn't get weird, instead he leans back a bit. He's getting comfortable with her. Finally. "Ok. I like it. Merry _fucking_ Christmas, Sam."

"Merry _fucking_ Christmas, Lou," he returns and they down their shots. Sam groans with a little disgust when he swallows it down before they both plop their glasses onto the table covered in empty, used shot glasses. "Damn it. 'D we drink all that?"

"We did," Lou nods. "And I, for one… am proud of that fact."

Sam huffs with true disbelief. "I'mma be so hung over tomorrow."

"Eh, hangovers remind you that you're still alive."

"How so?" he wonders, not understanding the correlation.

"Can't be hung over… if you're dead. Right?" Lou smiles hazily at him.

Sam nods once. "I don't know why… but that makes sense."

"Yeah, I know," Lou tells him lightly. She settles there for a second, her shoulder against his upper arm as they sit closely. She sighs. "Walk back with me? I think we did enough damage."

"Yeah, we did," Sam agrees. "Uh, ok." He nods.

She grins at him and climbs out of the booth. He doesn't say anything about the way she slightly trips over her own feet as she stands tall. He then walks up next to her and offers his arm to her, trying to be a gentleman.

She looks up at him and laughs at him a little with how dorky the move is. She still hooks her arm in his anyways. "Lead the way, you drunk giant."

"Will do, you… uh… hammered midget."

"Midget!?" Lou shouts up at him with shock. "So politically incorrect."

Sam grins dopey and walks them to the front door. "You prefer dwarf then… holy crap." When they push open the door and look outside they're both surprised to see a blanket of snow covering everything.

Lou looks around and sees what he means. "That's got to be, like, two feet already!"

"Looks like it's not stoppin' tonight either," Sam comments, looking upwards. He opens his mouth like a child, catching some fat flakes on his tongue.

"Better hunker down then, huh?" Lou nudges his side a bit and nods to the convenience store across the street that appears to still be open. "Some refreshments and stuff, then get a room?"

Sam stops there, looking down at her with a contemplative face.

"Stop overthinking, dummy," Lou rolls her eyes. "I'm talkin' Gatorade, munchies… water. And a room with two beds. However this night goes down, I'll leave it up to you." She knows she has to play it this way.

Sam nods, all too easily going with the suggestion as he's always far more convincible when hammered. "Ok. Only if we get red."

"Red?" Lou wonders.

"Gatorade."

She snorts a little at him for that as she starts to lead them to the store. "You know, when you're drunk you're kinda like an overgrown kid."

"Ouch," Sam's face wrinkles with hurt.

"Hey, I like overgrown kids…."

"Fuck… yeah…," Lizzy sighs between deep breaths as she looks up at the motel ceiling. Lying on her back, heart still racing a little, she can't stop the smile on her face that comes with feeling so fucking good. When she turns to look to her side she sees Dean already looking at her from his position next to her, also on his back.

"Ditto," Dean smirks, eyes glazed in relaxed enjoyment and possibly something else. His heart jumps when her grin goes full wattage, her toothy smile just everything in the moment. He follows her form once more as she lays there on top of the wrinkled up comforter, every inch of her skin on display and without shyness. He can't stop looking at her.

When neither say anything for another minute, Lizzy just laughs to herself and looks back up at the ceiling after a hell of a round of rushed, very charged, shockingly connected sex. When Robert Plant's voice disappears finally she realizes they killed the entire first album. "I think I really needed that."

"Been a while?" Dean asks lightly as he gets up from the bed and heads for the bathroom.

"Yeah. Months," Lizzy admits, hand pressed to her slightly damn with sweat forehead. "Been busy on the road."

"I hear that," he calls back to her as he removes the used condom and tosses it in the trashcan.

"But… _that_ right there was worth the wait," she emphatically lets him know.

When Dean walks back into the room he watches her lean over the bed and pull his flannel off the floor. As she threats her arms through his shirt while sitting on the mussed up bed he wonders how it's possible his dick twitches a little at the sight of the gorgeous woman buttoning up his shirt but it does. He better get his boxers on if he's sticking around for a bit longer. He really hopes she wants him to stick around for a bit longer.

"Yeah, uh… it was… _really_ good," Dean tells her, still a little in awe of how good it was. It's rare he finds a woman that's that much fun, that enjoyable. Not since Lisa years ago has anyone held up to the standard the yoga instructor set… but now he wonders if there might be a new bar.

"So good, right!?" Lizzy responds with surprised excitement, sitting Indian-style on the middle of the mattress as she watches him pull up his boxer briefs. "I mean, not to sound like I'm just trying to compliment you or suck up or anything… but, wow!"

"Yeah," Dean responds with a faraway voice, wondering why her and what the hell. He picks up the two forgotten beers on the table and heads for her. He sits down on the mattress next to her, hands her a beer, and reaches for her iPod dock. He flips to the next album, takes it off of shuffle, and presses play on Zeppelin II.

"You still trying to get through every album with me?" Lizzy eyes him a bit as he settles in against the headboard, legs stretched straight and ankles crossed.

Dean smiles oddly at her, it never reaching his eyes, and she knows right away something's wrong.

"What is it?"

"What's what?" Dean wonders, sipping his beer.

"What's the sudden mood change about? Does good sex usually put you in a bad mood?" Lizzy jokes a little.

"No, no," he smiles more naturally and looks down at his beer. "I just, uh… it's weird, you know?"

"What is?"

"You. Meeting you," Dean admits. He peers up at her as she intently listens, something he's not used to from strangers. She seems to care. Why, he doesn't know, but she cares. "I mean, what's the point?"

She looks at him like he's possible nuts. "You're kidding right? I think the sex spoke for itself…."

"That's what I'm talking about. We meet, hook up, it's great… and I mean it, it was _great_ … but that's all there is, you know?" Dean spills to her very oddly. He's never open like this. He's a lead vault usually. "Tomorrow you'll be on your way and so will we."

"We're hunters," Lizzy shrugs. "That's what we do."

"Don't you get tired of it?" Dean asks her, a moment of sheer honesty. "Don't you ever look at the dumb saps out there with an SUV and a life… and wonder?"

"Uh, only every fucking day," Lizzy scoff at him.

"Really?" he checks, not having been ready for that answer.

"This life sucks," she tells him, pulling down more beer. "But someone has to do it, right?"

"I guess…."

"And for now, that someone is us," Lizzy spells it out. "Think about all the families out there that are together, alive… because of what we do."

Dean nods, once more studying his bottle of beer. "That's a good point."

"It's the only point," she reminds him, her hand reaching out to his forearm. He catches her stare and she smiles so softly it damn near warms his heart. "Focus on that. It'll make the pill a lot easier to swallow."

Dean gives a slight, lopsided smile back.

"Are you really heading out tomorrow?" Lizzy asks him suddenly, looking to move on.

"Uh, I don't know. Probably."

"You have a hunt to get to on Christmas day?"

"Not really, but knowing my brother he'll have something lined up by morning to drag me away to."

"I doubt that," Lizzy laughs at the idea. "Once Lou's done with him he'll need to sleep it all off."

Dean face gets serious. "What does that mean?"

"It means she's probably unhinging her jaw and swallowing him down whole by now," Lizzy giggles. "Lou's a predator. She set her sights on Sam. He's cooked."

Dean thinks it over, recalling the way Lou looked at Sam all night. She did seem taken by him, focused and wanting him solely. "Sammy could use a night like that, actually."

"Then you two stumbled into the right bar tonight," she jests a little, sipping her beer.

Dean looks at her, the beautiful and insanely sexy hunter he's just had some of the best sex of his life with, and has to agree. "We definitely did."

Lizzy smiles wide and looks down at her lap, her cheeks flushing with the compliment. Dean can't help but find that adorable. He'd never say that aloud, but still.

"And you don't have to move on tomorrow if you don't want to," Lizzy offers, scooting over and straddling his legs. She settles there and leans down to press a quick kiss to his lips. It's a little familiar considering they aren't all that familiar with each other but she had the urge and went with it.

"Oh, I don't?" Dean returns with as he looks right into her eyes, his free hand sliding over her thigh before gripping it a bit. What a fucking fantastic body.

"Nope," she answers, pressing a little longer of a kiss to his lips, feeling his hand inch up to her ass. When she sits back up she looks down at him, placing a hand on his cheek. She traces his bottom lip, those god damned lips, with the pad of her thumb while telling him, "You should stick around a day. Louie and I are."

"Did you…" he narrows his eyes. "Did you just invite me to spend Christmas with your family?"

"No, I… well, actually, yeah I guess I did," Lizzy laughs once she thinks about it. Lou is all she really has left.

"Whoa, hold on, sweetheart," Dean jokes around with her once she's managed to lighten his mood up once more. "I just met you. One roll in the hay does not mean we're going steady."

"It doesn't?" Lizzy feigns upset, fake sad face on.

"Sorry, darling," Dean answers quickly back, playing along.

"Well, what if I promise you another roll in the hay?" Lizzy asks. "Would you go steady with me then?"

Dean grins wide and reaches up for her. A hand to the back of the head, he pulls her down and kisses her once more, never getting enough of that. Not since high school has making out and nothing else been as fun. When he ends it, he asks her, "Gimme a little bit?"

"Need to recharge?" Lizzy grins, nose tips still touching as he never let her go.

"I need, like, 30. Tops," Dean tells her.

"You just let me know, handsome," Lizzy winks at him before kissing him one more time.

"Jesus, did we really do all that damage!?" Lou asks as she sits on the same double bed as Sam in their newly rented room down the way from Lizzy and Dean.

Sam lazily scans the comforter. It's littered with wrappers. Oreos, chips, Doritos, gummy worms… all the classic are present. And all the wrappers are empty.

"Don't use the lord's name in vein… on his birthday," Sam barely gets out a half-assed laugh, his eyelids heavy.

"He'll understand," Lou jokes back. "Even _He'd_ be in awe of how much we ate."

"That's probably true," Sam says, leaning back into the headboard as the liquor he drank, which has to be around five times more than he ever drinks at once, starts to pull him under.

Lou glances at the old alarm clock on the nightstand. "Well, shit. It really is Jesus' birthday."

"Hm?" Sam wonders, leaning up to look at the clock next to him. It's 12:28. "Huh. Look at that." He leans back against the headboard and looks at Lou where she sits at the foot of the bed. "Merry Christmas."

Lou smiles genuinely, something adoring in her eyes when she returns with, "Merry Christmas, Sam."

Sam grins something sweet and lost right back when he realizes what he's got to do. "I should get going. Let you sleep."

Lou just laughs at him. "Where are you planning on going?"

"My room…?"

"We only got the one," she reminds him. "You're staying here."

He then remembers it all. They bought too much junk food at that convenience store, stopped into the office to book one room, and then hunkered down for the night as the snow continued to fall. They barely made it into the room itself at first. The snow drift that blew against the door had practically blocked it until Sam stole a shovel from the office to clear it out.

"Right." Sam nods and leans his head back into the headboard again, closing his eyes.

"Damn it," Lou complains.

"What?" he asks, not moving.

"I got you too drunk."

"I'm fine."

"Not for what I want from you," she laughs small and gets up from the bed. She walks for the trash can in the bathroom and grabs it.

"Are you still hitting on me?" Sam slurs out a bit.

"I am," Lou admits, plucking wrappers off the bed and disposing of them.

"At least you're honest." Sam does appreciate that.

"Always, honey," Lou laughs a little more at him and how damn cute he is. A huge hulking hunter of massive proportions that she can only imagine is quite intimidating when on the job is really just a sweet, adorable little kid when drunk like this.

"I'mma sleep now," Sam lets her know, ready to pass out.

"Here," he hears her say and suddenly something is plopped onto his chest. And then another something. When he peers down he sees a new, packaged toothbrush and a travel sized toothpaste.

"Where'd this come from?" Sam asks, grabbing both and looking at them closely.

"The Gas N' Sip. Had a feeling we'd be without our stuff. Or at least I would be." She keeps cleaning up. "I'm definitely not going anywhere near my old room tonight."

"Ew," Sam comments, getting up to brush his teeth like she suggested. When he stands he looks down at the small, well-thought out offering and then locks eyes with Lou. "Thanks for this."

"Anytime, big man," she smirks and watches him march for the bathroom. When the door shuts and the faucet is on she shakes her head at herself. "Fucking blew it. He's so drunk."

* * *

When Sam slowly blinks open his eyes the next morning, he has a very confusing moment of panic. Where the hell is he? Whose room is this?

On his back with his head turned to the side, he sees the big picture window and the thin white curtains draw across. Light pours into the room so he knows it's morning. Looking down himself he sees that he's tucked into bed, blankets on, and he doesn't remember climbing in in the first place.

Sam lifts the blankets and takes a look at his state. T-shirt and boxer briefs only but that's not what makes his heart skip with shock. It's the arm around his chest. "Oh."

Whipping his head to the side, Sam finds Lou in bed with him, curled up into his side with her head on his shoulder. One more peek under the covers and he sees that all she's wearing is her long sleeve shirt and hand panties.

Crap. Did she talk him out of his determination to not sleep with her while hammered last night? They aren't wearing much and she was really persistent. And Sam knows he's far more susceptible to suggestion when drunk, which is why he's hardly ever drunk.

As if she could hear the gears in his brain turning away, Lou stirs a bit in her sleep. She inhales deeply and Sam starts to freak out a little. What does he say to her? Is this going to be super weird?

But then she opens her bright blue eyes and looks up at him. She smiles, something warm and bashful and she hasn't had the time or presence of mind to put her flirtatious mask on.

How can he be anxious and weird when she's this damn beautiful.

"Morning," Lou says to him quietly and presses her face into his shoulder.

Well, shit. She's cuter than he remembers from last night.

"Morning," Sam responds.

"Sorry. I know I said I'd stay on my side but I got cold," she admits.

He doesn't recall her promise to keep away. He doesn't hate that she broke it. "No… no, it's fine."

She cuddles in closer and they lay there for a second.

"So, ah… do you know where my pants are?" Sam asks her, seeing if he can get to the root of what happened after he blacked out. He remember shoveling the door clear, eating a lot of junk food, and that's about it. And maybe brushing his teeth.

"On the floor where you left them," Lou tells him, drawing circles on his t-shirt with her index finger.

"Where _I_ left them?" he checks.

She smirks at him. "Well, I didn't take them off. Unfortunately."

"Ok," Sam nods, lost in thought, and she understands his worry right then.

"We didn't fuck. Relax."

Sam does relax at that, melting back into the mattress a bit.

"Would that have been so bad if we did?" Lou wonders, hurt a little by the instant reaction.

He looks at her apologetically. "No, that's… that's not what I meant. I just… I was hoping we didn't do anything and I was so drunk I forgot."

"I see," she says, liking that answer. Her hand slides across his torso and she moves up a little so she can look right at him, eye to eye. "You're not drunk now."

"No I'm not." He knows what she's doing. "Just hung over."

"I have a cure for that," Lou tells him and goes for it. She was patient, very fucking patient, all night. And now she wants what she wants. Taking a chance, he presses her lips to his.

Sam isn't all that surprised after having been around her all night. She's forward. And her determination is really quite admirable. And her lips are so damn soft.

Maybe it's the hazy head full of fog and cotton that makes him go with it. Or maybe it's the fact that she was so kind and never pushed too hard. But he likes her and they're here. And it's Christmas. He deserves something good.

Sam brings his arm up, the one she wasn't laying on, and pulls her in by the back of her head. Being still groggy with alcohol and sleep really does make decision-making easier. She feels good and that's about as far as Sam's thinking right now.

As if they were just a couple high school students, they find themselves sharing a make-out moment straight from their adolescence. It's nothing too charged, they did just wake up after all. And it isn't pushy. This doesn't feel like there's a goal to be made. This is it. Just kissing. And it's lovely for the moment.

"Sam?" Lou says his name in a question with her mouth still pressed to his.

"Mm?" Sam barely gets out, still kissing her with all he has. Once he started he can't seem to stop. She's fun and he's needy all of a sudden.

"We keep going and I'm not gonna be able to stop myself," she playfully informs him as she climbs atop his hips, lips still attached. "You sure about this?"

She pauses there, eyes locked and waits. She needs to hear that he's alright, that he wants this. Sam respects that.

"I'm not asking you to stop," he tells her, pulling her in with hands buried in her long blonde hair. He kisses her again, a little deeper than before as he looks to prove that he's being truthful.

"What's with the one-eighty?" she questions with a smile, so happy this is somehow happening now.

Her warm hands creep up his shirt and absorb the feel of his torso and Sam is officially turned full on when she hums a surprised sound of approval. "Told you. Didn't wanna do this when I was wasted."

"Drunk sex can be fun," she counters with a smirk, her body moving atop his as she lays down full onto him, every inch of her form pressed to his.

Sam's hands explore her as he tells her, "But then you run the risk of forgetting it ever happened."

Lou lightly takes his bottom lip between her teeth for a second. "You afraid you'd forget me, Sammy-boy? Because trust me," she tells him, inching his shirt up before pulling it off of him. She sits up on his hip and looks down at the body she has trapped beneath her. She can feel her mouth literally watering at the sight of honest, well defined abs that come straight from her dreams. "I'll make sure you never forget me."

Sam says nothing about how much he enjoys that promise. Instead, knowing he's too deep to turn back now even if he wanted to, he reaches up and pulls her in with palms pressed into her back. He kisses her some more and lets her roam his skim with her fingertips, always enjoying when a woman can find so much attraction in him. Egotistical, maybe. But it's a massive turn on.

Just as Sam starts to slip Lou's shirt hem upwards they hear a knock at the door.

 _Sammy!_

"Crap," Sam complains quietly to mostly himself, pausing where he is. Lou's midriff is exposed, shirt half off, and she sighs with frustration to not yet be topless. "Dean!?"

 _Come on, dude! Breakfast!_

Lip land on his neck and Sam closes his eyes with the feel of it. "Tell him you're skipping breakfast," Lou whispers into his ear in a sultry tone. She reaches lower and grabs him lightly through his boxers, so happy to find him already hard. "You can eat me instead."

Sam's eyes blow wide with the invite. "Get me something for later!"

"Dude!" Dean yells into the door, trying again. "Come on! We're gonna head to the Gas N' Sip and stock up on booze, food, and bargain bin crap movies!"

 _We're fine, Dean! Just get us stuff and we'll join you later!_

"Seriously?" Dean wonders with total surprise at Sam's answer. He looks over his shoulder to the woman riding piggy back on him. "He better be getting laid." He whips his head back to the door. "You better be getting laid!"

 _He is if you go the fuck away!_

Lizzy belts out a massive laugh at her best friend's reaction. "We're leaving!"

"Leaving now!" Dean agrees and he walks them away from the door, Lizzy still hanging on tight with arms around his neck. They start to trudge through the snow that's been hastily plowed at best to make due until the trucks come around to do a better job. "You need to get better boots."

She laughs at him. He insisted he carry her to the store after he saw the crappy condition of her combat boots. "Why bother when I have strapping men to carry me?"

"Ha-ha," he fake annoys. "So, what do you think… burritos and beer?"

"Turkey sandwiches. We always had left over turkey sandwiches Christmas night with the dinner leftovers."

"Done," Dean answers her. "I gotta say this beats the crap outta driving around all day in this shit."

"Yeah," Lizzy nods, and hugs him in tighter, having found some true affection for this man throughout the night. "God, I hope Die Hard's on today. It's not Christmas without that movie."

Dean peeks back at her with a straight face. "How?"

"How…. What?"

"Good sex, drinking, Die Hard… how is that possible? Chicks aren't like that."

"Baby, there are no chicks like me," Lizzy jokes and bites his ear playfully.

"And now you're just stealing all my best lines."

"You're a one-of-a-kind chick too!?"

"You know what I mean…."

Lizzy grin wider than she has in so long that it hurts from muscle atrophy. And he's right. He's pretty damn one-of-a-kind himself. "Yeah, you're not bad…."

* * *

 **Love you all!**


End file.
